In the gaze of the moon

[Hysteria]

A mother’s caress is one of the few pure things in Althanas. Meanwhile men vie for power, stepping and trodding on others in order to get that step closer to ultimate power. On the streets it is no different, the swarming mess of human filth runs into the gutters. It is so thick, so tainted by stench of sweat and debauchery it’s odor reaches up into the Twilight Mountains. Normally, high in those jagged peaks and capped with snow, it can be ignored. Sometimes, just sometimes, there is a stirring loud enough for even those isolated peaks to be reached. When mortals cross that line, doing something so horrible that it echoes through the mountains, then all shall see how pure a mother’s rage can be.

Two giant wings unfurled. Even in the darkness of the cave flickers of light rippled across their surface. The air was filled with the sound of shifting coins as thousands of gold pieces were pushed aside so the creature’s main body could emerge. The initial slow movement quickened, a puff of flames illuminating the area and catching both armoured scale and gold alike. The dragon’s body lurched forwards, four legs causing cascading crashes of gold with each footfall. The limbs quickened into a run until the creature explode out into the cold light of day.

The dragon looked at home among the white peaked mountains. Her scales were pure white, each one was a vibrant ivory colour, catching and reflecting the sunlight with an astounding pale luminosity. With each beat of her wings, the dragon lurched forwards towards the edge of the mountains. Her rage was boiling over, building up and releasing in an ear-shattering roar. The sound echoed through the mountains and flowed down into the vallies below.

Moonwing had emerged, and she would have vengeance.

* * * *

It took a week for the news of the attacks to reach the capital. At first they were laughed off, surely we have cleared out all the dragons? No, no, there simply can’t be three. And yet, the reports kept coming. First there was the mysterious plague dragon, bringing the terrible plague from afar, war torn island. The second was Sunwing, the young dragon that had terrorised towns and slayed most that had been sent to end it. Now there was another, bringing more destruction and fire.

A now familiar call had gone out to all mercenaries and monster hunters; Please rid us of this monster… What information about the creature’s attacks was vague, most was only the reports of survivors of former attacks. However, those that were smart enough, or lucky enough, would realise that the direction of the attacks pointed at a small town of no more than a few dozen people. This was the location of Moonwing’s attack, and the place of her possible defeat.

* * * *

Jormungstadt, the tiny town perched below the Twilight Mountains. It has once been a prosperous town, acting as one of the only transportation routes between one of the larger mines and the rest of Alerar. However, all good things come to an end. The min had eventually shut after a series of collapses, the only vein of fertile metals were under tones of loose rubble, and despite every attempt there was no way to dig any further. A decade later and the town was a shadow of it’s former glory. A grand church was the centre of the town, adorned with thick white marble, somewhat stained with years of weather and neglect. Most of the buildings on the outskirts had been stripped a long time ago, with many just the foundations now.

Despite this, the town was a cheery place. With a small population and relatively healthy flow of coins comes a close knit community. Elves and humans lived in peace, with more than a few half-bloods mixed in. There were a few dwarves as well, generally routine travellers going to and from the strongholds of their kin.

The town was a hive of activity on the fair day of potential destruction. People had heard the rumours of dragons further north, but did not consider their small town might be next. The weekly market continued as planned, with rows of tables lined with goods stretching all the way around the church. Nearly the whole town was in attendance and their ranks were swelled by travelling merchants that had stopped to sell a few wears, or restock for the next journey. The air was filled with the smell of cooked meats and vegetables and the happy chatterings of folk. Soon that would change.

[Storm Veritas]

The mighty Attila charged forward, chewing up the barren landscape that separated their arriving port town of Etherea and their target, Jormungstadt. The hard-packed earthen surface was perfect for the brilliant horse, who lost no energy to soft soil but suffered none for the travel. Even with two atop him, the massive stallion darted forward effortlessly.

Been a long time since I visited this shithole. I still think that this falls under the jurisdiction of “not-my-f*cking-problem”.

When news of the mythically sized dragon looming overhead reached Storm, it was sat in his stomach like a cold lump of lead. He had been one of the instigators of this fight, playing a key role in defeating the mighty Sunwing. He still had plenty of tender flesh left to show for it; a large patch on his lower left leg where a bad burn had only begun to heal. The memory of that terrible thing wouldn’t soon escape him, either. The glowing flesh, the torrential breath of fire, and the speed of the abomination was branded into his brain. He even had one of the horns of Sunwing stored away for safe-keeping, a souvenir that would likely upset a grieving mother a great deal.

Periodically, he noticed small caravans. Wagons, carts, and horse troops carrying families small and large. Humans and elves alike appeared quiet and confused, unsure why any would charge towards the site where the great dragon loomed while they fled town in desperation.

Still shouldn’t be my problem; I picked my fight and won it. Why can’t they send the militia after the mama dragon? If she’s as big as the rumors say, this is the work for five hundred men, not five.

He had been talked into it simply enough; a brutal guilt trip from a genuine, no-shit hero that Veritas expected simply wanted to do the right thing. Internally, he disagreed; the people of Alerar were known to be so goddamned smart that they should have been able to fix this on their own. Alerar had a huge military, second maybe only to Corone. To further complicate things, all of their technology had created a thick layer of smog that blanketed the city like an omnipresent reminder of their own filth. It likely made for the perfect hiding spot for Moonwing, who could use the blanket to appear, strike, and retreat effortlessly, eviscerating the cities below her.

Too much for their fancy military technology, I guess. Their musket-shot or scorpion-bolts must be too slow, too weak, or too awkward. Like a Dark Elf trying to get laid.

They approached the city, and he felt her arms around his waist atop the great beast again. They had been silent for some time; it was likely they were both scripting their own plan to take down the fantastic monster. The outpouring of people increased in pace as they neared the city, where tall buildings looked to be looming bulls-eyes for what could be imminent dragon strikes.

He strode into the town with his magnificent partner behind him, noticing the lack of fervor. For the several packs of people who had left, far more stayed behind, tending to their normal daily activities. The air was warm, the sun was bright, and people happily tended to carts selling food and goods just as they would in Radasanth’s Center Square. It dawned on Storm that perhaps there was more madness in the mundane, specifically as these people sat on the precipice of disaster.

They don’t know. They think the people leaving are lying. Holy shit.

[Karuka]

Taische had refused to come further into Alerar than the port town with ferocity and will that her mother had never seen before. Karuka expected it had something to do with the still less-than-clear happenings while the child had been inadvertently in the care of her father. Of course, as a Tenalach and the mother of a Tenalach, she also couldn't blame her daughter for not wanting to come into the overly-developed land. The ground screamed into their senses, even through the confining boots they hated wearing. It wept because it was being poisoned, groaned because it was being ripped open and abused.

If not for the skinny mage who rode right in front of her going and starting problems, Karuka wouldn't have been in Alerar. She didn't like the nation any more than her daughter did. Fortunately, she had friends and people whose lives she'd saved scattered across the continent and island nations alike, so she'd been able to find someone trustworthy to look after Taische while she and her lover thundered across the broken and patchy landscape to deal with Moonwing. With any luck, the desire to not be in the land of the dark elves would override the child's tendency to wander.

She traced a rune on the back of Storm's neck when he slowed Attila from a canter to a walk. He'd experienced it several times in Dheathain, though he'd only been conscious for one application. He'd earned his burn from Sunwing, so she'd just given him salves to help with the pain and monitored it to make sure it didn't get infected. Now that they were about to face the young dragon's vengeful mother, she needed him healthy.

While he observed the town of Jormungstadt with macabre bewilderment, she looked around with deep dissatisfaction. She'd told Storm to come here because she'd seen the dragon attacking the town. They'd raced with all the speed his mighty horse could give them, but even so, she could feel the dragon's approach like a doe could feel a forest fire. She could almost taste the rank reptilian musk, and her lips curled as though rejecting something bitter. She could feel from the horse's shuffling beneath her that he could feel it, too.

"This'll ay be a mess, Storm. A damn bloody one, at that."

The golden-skinned redhead reached out, providing a perch for the massive red and orange bird that had flown alongside them across the country. His powerful, scaly feet gripped her carefully enough that his dagger-like talons didn't so much as scratch her flesh, but most of his attention was directed north. He fluffed and shook anxiously, clacking his beak to show his discontent. He was a bird raised and trained to hunt and fight, but he had seen what was coming on the horizon, and he didn't like it. Even an ancient phoenix would hesitate to tangle with an angry dragon, and Taodoine was still a resurrection or two away from being a full adult in his own right.

"I know, I know. But I told y' t' stay with Taische, and y' wanted no part in that, didja? Y' wanted t' come with me." The raptor hissed his reproach and regret. Karuka leaned forward, hooking her chin over Storm's bony shoulder.

"We need t' start gettin' th' people out, if we can." To follow her own advice, the redhead jumped down from the horse's back, patting the meaty flank before she headed to the nearest stand. "Get on out, now. Take yer families an' whatever supplies y' can grab now, nothin' else. Go. Go! Don'tcha know there's a dragon comin?!"

Some of the nearby citizens looked at her, bewildered and barely comprehending her through her accent. Others caught the urgency in her tone and the word "dragon," and quickly ran off.

It's not enough. Where's th' well? An' hopefully this town's had rain of late...

[redford]

John winced a little as Jamie pulled a bandage from his back, and leaned forward more in his oversized chair. His burns were mostly healed by now, but they had left rough scars, crisscrossing his legs, torso, and arms like dozens of little rivers. Currently, the only places not fully healed were parts of his back, where he could not quite reach to change the bandages. Jamie spoke, dipping a rag in water and cleaning his burns again.

“I still don’t think you should go, especially since your back still hasn’t healed,” she said, placing a fresh cloth pad on his back.

John sighed deeply, knowing this conversation was bound to happen. It did every time he was contracted for mercenary work.

“I’ve got to, Jamie.”

Jamie stood, walking around to face the half-giant. She knew that in times where he was calm, his words were laden heavy with thought, though his words would seem simple.

“But why? You have no obligation to this task,” she replied, turning to grab a roll of bandages.

“Because I started this, Jamie,” he said, reaching to fondle his necklace made of dragon teeth, souvenirs of Moonwing’s son. He continued, more to himself than to her. “And I know her anger. I know what it is like to lose a child.”

Jamie began to wrap his torso with bandages, making sure that the pad at his back was still properly placed.

“And…” she probed.

“And, I know the horrible things parents do to avenge their children. Moonwing may be a beast, but we who killed her son have brought this. If she must take her revenge, she will take it on me, and not the people of Jormungstadt.”

A sigh from behind him, and he felt Jamie’s head rest on his neck. She reached for one of his hands, running her fingers along his calluses. She spoke, placing her palm flat against his to marvel at the size difference.

“When would you go?”

“For every moment I wait, more innocent people may die.”

Jamie traced a scar along the half-giant’s forearm, feeling the rough lumps and valleys where he’d been burned. She steeled her mind against him leaving, for once John made up his mind, there was little anyone could do to deter him.

“Well, if you must go, then you must go. I’ll get a bag for you,” she said, turning aside to a side room, but hesitating. “Just…..just come back, okay? You can’t protect anybody if you’re dead, you know.”

-----------------------------------------------------

An ice cube clanked in John’s glass just before the whiskey sloshed inside, dropping him out of his reminiscing. It was one sound among many in the jolly, if sparsely occupied little bar in Jormungstadt. Pretty barmaids bounced from table to table, and back to the bar for refills of beer and food. The bartender had kept a wary eye on John from the moment he walked in, but had since softened his gaze since John’s coin was good and plentiful. It was odd, usually impending doom dampened the mood of the locals, but this place bore no such anxiety. The bartender spoke, with a low voice, as if the jolly nature of the establishment was held together by a little thread, and if he spoke too loud, it would break.

“You here’ta, ta fight tha dragon?”

John drained his glass of whiskey, which was little more than a shot to him, and snapped his fingers, producing a cigar in his hand. With a second snap it was lit and he sucked the rich aroma into his mouth.

“Aye, are there others?”

“Some, but not many.”

It was all odd to John, he thought, as the bartender turned away, cleaning another glass. John had seen battle, but never had he grown used to the knowledge that an ambush was approaching. Especially since there was no way to know from whence it came, nor the exact strength of his foes. It was all unnerving, he thought as he drained another glass of whiskey. There was but one thing he could do.

Wait.

[Revenant]

Destruction. Demolition. Annihilation. So many words for a concept that, at its core, was the simplest thing. You took something that was and made it into something that wasn’t. It was the natural course of events. It was the basic state of the world, of existence itself. Everything that was would one day not be. No matter how much one struggled, no matter how many laboring backs broke themselves to make it not so, eventually everything would come down to nothing.

Destruction was coming for Jormungstadt.

William leaned against the side of the local church and watched the market crowd milling through the streets, going about their daily business as if lives weren’t about to be irrevocably changed forever. Of course, he thought as he idly pulled the rind from some yellow citrus he had just purchased, what reason should they have to think so? Sure there had been rumors of ancient beasts rising in the north, but nothing like that would ever make its way to Jormungstadt. Things like that only happened to important places. Places where gods walked and legends fought. Surely nothing like that would ever happen in a small village in the shadow of the Twilight Mountains?

The Revenant grinned and popped a sliver of tart fruit flesh into his mouth. They didn’t know. They couldn’t feel it the way that he could. They were simple mountain folk, miners and traders and the like. To them, a tunnel collapse or a missed shipment of supplies was the worst scenario that they could imagine. But he knew. He could see the wooden buildings crumbling to ash in his cursed sight, could smell the scent of charred flesh and hear the crack of blackened bone. Destruction was part and parcel to him, woven into the fabric of his soul by ancient magic.

William tossed the last bits of fruit into the dust and took up the obsidian haft of his warscythe. He pulled his cloak low down to shield his burning eyes from view, but he needn’t have worried. Despite the packed crowd no one wanted to be near the Revenant. There was something about William, even in his human form, which warned away others. A raw sense of violence and heat which flowed from him and made it clear to others that he was not someone to be trifled with.

Destruction came in many forms. Fires that raged forth from an accidental slip of a lamp; the cold bite of a raider’s sharp steel; the unstoppable quaking of the angry ground; there were many ways in which people and places could simply end. This time is would be a mother’s wrath for its fallen child, a force more implacable and enduring than the stars themselves.

Destruction was coming for Jormungstadt, William Arcus grinned from the darkness of his cowl, and he would be there for it.

[Ioder]

It was more a work and charity really, this didn't have anything to do with his overall goal. Ioder found himself, for lack of a better word, attracted to the aspect of the imminent chaos more than anything. News of the pale dragon reached his ears in less than a fortnight and even quicker the soul broker made way to the small town. Oh the bountiful harvest that would soon be upon him.

He found refuge in the small congregation attending service. It was a fairly large church and Ioder felt at home here. On each side of the large stone arches were beautiful stained windows through which a rainbow cascaded in. Twenty cushioned pews lined each wall separated by a extravagant rug leading to an alter in the front. Three men stood by the alter dressed in ceremonial robes addressing the service. Ioder sat in the rear, only the first three pews we're filled, he didn't want to get aquanted to anyone. With the eminent threat luming overhead there was simply no point.

Ioder hide his face from the piering eyes of the congregation behind the rim of his hood. His wings gently tucked away and out of site. Alessia, his enchanted blade, present on his waist stowed in and inscribed sheath. He looked like a merc, rough and mysterious, not a face you would see in a service.

The three leaders we're telling tale of old proverb mentioning hardships and struggle. May perhaps they we're preparing their flock for what might be to come. Or just reciting memorized lines they have spat time and time again. It mattered not if the rumors we're true there would soon be carnage. That sweet nector which fueled the his business would flow through the valleys either by a dragon or he himself.

Ioder smirked at the very that thought. He had eenough of the service and proceeded to leave the church. As he did I he caught the gaze of the church goers looking him up and down. In the back of his mind he hated the attention, which was in his nature as a shape changer. He passed though the stone doors and into the hustle and bustle of the market place. Outside the town was alive and well and Ioder couldn't tell if everyone here was oblivious or here for the show.

[Hysteria]

Do you know what I saw on my way here?

The words were loud and dripping with hatred. Each and every person in the small town on Jormungstadt heard them. There was no subtlety in her telepathy, no gentle whisper or nudge. For a moment every thought, every memory was shoved aside for her words.

I saw Arztschlange, the Eternal. Dead. Killed by your kind like so many of my brethren.

The second blast of raw telepathic magic subsided like the first, leaving everyone in a moment of silence before their thoughts could catch up. It was only a moment however, the screams followed fast. The town had been held together with naught but a few strings holding back the tide of panic. The dragon’s words cut them away like nothing. Out in the streets panic erupted. People fled in every direction, unsure if of just how to escape the coming doom. Inside the church the pastor stumbled on his robes as he tried to run off the pulpit to his quarters. His head hit the stone floor with a resounding crack and a pool of blood quickly circled the twisted snarl on his face.

In any crowd a few people will keep their heads. Some more headstrong townsfolk and travelers grabbed weapons. The skill of these men and women were questionable, as was their resolve. High above the town Moonwing acted with a cold and calculated rage. She had approached the town at tremendous speed. Her words were truth, but she also knew they would cause a panic.

Moonwing had approached the town with the sun at her back. Even the superior vision of the elves would have a hard time seeing her as the mirror-like scales adorning her body melded with the sun behind her. It was however the panic that served best to cloak her advance. Within moments of descending she was upon the town.

The dragon’s wings unfurled, catching and pulling her out of the nose dive just before crashing into the town. The force of the change in direction was effortless for the giant creature, yet the shockwave of air sent those in a hundred metre radius tumbling along the street. The dragon flew above the street, her giant jaw opened as flickers of light emanating from deep in her gullet.

Screams of panic have a particular sound to them. They are rushed, without rhyme or reason. The screams that came from the street as the blue flames washed over everything were completely different. They were loud, full of pain and above all; final. The air was instantly tinged with the scent of charred wood and flesh. The flames only lasted a few seconds after being released, but that was enough time for the intense heat to destroy everything it touched. The stones were blackened and charred bodies were trapped in the position they had been when engulfed in flames.

Moonwing twisted in the air as she circled around and landed on the church in the centre of town. The building was large, three stories high and just as wide. Moonwing was nearly the same size and the building struggled to hold her weight. A large clawed hand gripped the spire as she balanced precariously on the roof as parts cracked and fell inwards.

I smell my Sonne here! Who has taken from him?!

Another telepathic scream echoed through the town as the mother realised that there were stolen parts of her son nearby. Her large head, etched with centuries of lines twisted through the air. Her giant snout sniffed, trying to locate the tiny fragments of her child.

[Storm Veritas]

Storm Veritas had adventured more and been in more wars that most that remained upright upon Althanas, but forced telepathy was a first for him, and it rattled him quite a bit. When the thoughts of the enormous dragon invaded his head, he nearly fell from his horse, grabbing instinctively at his skull to futilely attempt to draw out the alien ideas.

How did that big scaly bitch do that? And what now? Can she hear what I’m thinking?

Jumping down, his first thoughts were for those he cared of, even if their preservation were in his best interest. Karuka was likely stronger than he was, but that didn’t stop a worried glance from checking to ensure she was alright. There was a look upon her that she had certainly received the message as well. He slapped Attila upon his great ebony haunch, a short command that was unmistakable.

“Git, boy! Go!”

The thunder-hooves rattled away as Attila bolted off to safety. The horse would have proven useful in this fight, but would also be a liability when the time came to hide. The wizard expected this time was soon but was unsure of just how quickly Moonwing would make her presence felt. Storm had never seen a dragon as powerful as Sunwing before he helped kill the great beast, but the fire that scorched the building and road before him now was of another world. The air reeked of burned wood, cobbled-stone streets melted to an orange, magmic slurry, and the people…

We’re all f*cked.

To see people die so quickly, so definitively… it was shaking. The citizens flash-charred into standing pyres of fused ash. His mind raced to the smell of burning flesh on Salvar, but there was no such odor here. Here, the burn was too fast, the flesh excoriated too rapidly. This was better… and much worse. People were instantly converted to soot-borne memories, which certainly justified the pandemonium all around him.

Only those few that had come to fight would not run, so the considerable Veritas wagered that anyone not running had become an ally. There weren’t many. The most important one was a certain tanned redhead, and she was within earshot when the behemoth Moonwing crashed upon the church, buckling stones and splintering mortar from its vestige in a shower of stones and sand.

Storm was less than a block from the old church when it was compressed by the landing dragon. His instinct was to freeze; this dragon was a predator that would pick up motion without effort. To run closer was suicide, but with Moonwing’s power of those tunnels of fiery breath, running further was a fool’s errand. Cover and distractions would be his two primary salvations here, and he could only rely on the first on his own accord. He’d do his best to get the horrible thing’s attention, and allow others to attack. Backing his way into the mouth of an alley that could provide cover, he gazed up at the awful thing. His legs rattled as nerves jittered his fingertips. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Storm feigned strength in a moment where he had never felt more weak.

“I took down Sunwing, you miserable old bitch! His meat was tough and gamey, but his horn put a floor on my house. Let me return the favor, you miserable old twat!”

Without a word, Storm fired a mighty blast of arcing, blue-white electricity spiraling at the chest of the perched demon. He thought – perhaps hoped – that with it’s great size the reaction and speed would be reduced. If he was right, the blast was strong enough to stun and stagger the terrible beast.

And if I’m wrong, we’re all f*cked either way.

[Ioder]

The seraphim watched as a misty energy started to swell around him. This was not unfamiliar to him. Yet never before had this happened on such a large scale. It started out as a small trickel. First it was the pastor of the church cracking his head on the stone floor. His soul tasted like that of a nobel man buried in secrets and renovations. Then they came In like a torrent, one after another the souls of the fallen came to the Soul Broker. It was glorious feeling each soul join him in his nebula. He had never felt such a surge of energy before.

He gritted his teeth as Moonwing spat her azure flames down on the ground below. He hadn't seen it coming and the quick jolts of telepathic energy was purely a distraction on her behalf. Smart girl. With all the strength he could muster he dive back into the stone arches of the large church. A spiral of raging flames fallowed him in scorching his coat tails. Quickly he through off his cloak and released his white-gold wings.

He looked around catching the scared stairs of a few cowering towns folk. There we're some soft whispers among themselves either about the dragon who perched itself on the spire of the church, or he himself. But it didn't matter, nothing this trivial nonsense mattered. These people we're going to die soon.

"What are you staring at!" He yelled annoyed at the civilians. "Or should I just draw his attention inside?" He had no real intention to directly hurt these people but now he cared not for the world of humanity. For all he cared this dragon could kill every last one of them. He turned to face the charred door with intugue corseing though his blood yet still he couldn't stand strong with the frightful pressance looming just above him.

Inside the ceiling had begun to fall and Ioder knew it would not hold up for long. He didn't bother to tell the others as the quickly retreated father into the church. Instead he needed to make his move, he needed to communicate to the beast. With his new found power he manifested a copy of himself and sent it flying out of the doorway.

His vestige banked upward quickly just a burest of blue light long came soaring towards the dragon. This was his only chance to gain any favor with the beast. His vestage turned to embrace the strike of lightning and was instantly turned to dust yet the lightning was swelled with it.

Fear not Mi'Lady, I am not one of these retchid beings. I offer my aid to the and in turn wish to consume their awful soul. Allow me to fend off what I can and in turn allow me my harvest. Ioder communicated telepathicly to the beast as she did to him. Ioder didn't know for sure if the monster could hear him or if she would allow him to play his game. Regardless of her response, if any, he would dance this dance.

[Revenant]

Finally, William exulted. There was rawness in his chest at the sight of the shimmering beast. An empty, aching need existed there which only Moonwing could fill. And oh how she filled it. William watched, entranced, by the way that the dragon’s distended jaws poured forth a torrent of desolating flame. Roaring azure poetry caught the edges of Moonwing’s mirrored scales and lit to dancing on them. It was a ballet of sweet, sudden release for the town of Jormungstadt, and yet it was a performance for William’s eyes alone. It was a kindred spirit’s caress. A lover’s gentle embrace.

“Please,” a sudden cry and grasping hands tore William from his hypnotic reverie. Chaos reigned all around the revenant. Dust, smoke, and screams wrestled through the air, each fighting against one another to catch the more notice from the panicked bystanders. Horror and death poured out of the church and from the surrounding streets. Hundreds of humans, elves, and others of various races clawed to get away from the doom which alit on the stones above them. And in the center of it all, standing impassively in the wash of the flood, stood William Arcus.

“Sweet Thaynes above, please,” cried the woman who had shaken William loose from his dream. “My children, they’re …”

William spat a vicious, gutteral snarl at the woman and brushed her aside. The strength of his inhuman body sent the back of his hand into her chest like the shot from an Aleraran cannon. He felt a wet, crumpling pop as the woman hurtled into the crowd to knock half a dozen others under the trampling horde. A handful of fleeing bystanders stopped long enough to gape at William’s handiwork, but they too were swarmed by the mob pressure building up behind them. No one stopped to help the fallen.

Another psychic scream roared from overhead as Moonwing cried out for its child’s killer. William turned back to the dragon, hoping to regain the connection that he’d felt to the raw primal power she exuded. But it was gone. It had been lost to those clinging hands. It had been lost to pleading cowardice. Now, all that was left in William was the empty yearning which Moonwing had excited within him. All that was left was the hunger.

Sudden rage, furious and hot, burst from the depths of William’s core. A tidal surge of molten force which shot through him, charring and tearing William’s body as the revenant’s war form assumed the mantle of flesh. Power, swelling with demonic strength, coursed through every fiber of William’s being. New screams of terror and panic rang out as the Jormungstadt survivors saw William’s flesh blacken to broken cinders and felt the intense heat rolling off him in waves. It appeared as if this lone man was the target of another of the dragon’s fiery attacks and the area around him cleared in a heartbeat. And in their haste the people of Jormungstadt churned the mud and offal filling the streets into muddy, careless slurry. But the death and violence here paled in comparison to what now held William affixed.

Moonwing.

He loved her in that moment. More than anything he had ever loved in his twisted, pathetic life. And he wanted nothing more than to share that love with her. He wanted nothing more than to take her return of it in force and in blood.

He would gorge himself on that love.

He would fill the hungering void in his soul with it.

William reached into his power, wrapped his molten heat around him, gripped the haft of his deadly weapon, and rose in flight to meet his love.